What? You opened a resort on the battlefield of all races?

The black mist in the abyss churned violently.

The Abyss Messenger turned around and pulled the black bone staff from the bone altar.

He tilted his head back, the eerie green flames in his empty eye sockets flickered twice, and a smug sneer appeared on his gaunt face.

The signal to summon the kings of all races has been sent out.

He now needs to get to the agreed location.

"The situation with humans is strange; I need to use my brain."

He muttered to himself as he started walking.

The bone staff struck the hard, scorched earth with a dull thud.

The messenger's black robes fluttered in the eerie winds of the abyss, making him resemble a giant black bat.

The human race's recent offensive has indeed been fierce, causing many peripheral races to suffer heavy losses.

"But these brutes who only know how to charge around with brute force have no idea what the art of war is."

The envoy shook his head, his withered lips moving up and down, as he began to plan his next tactics.

He stopped and walked to a relatively flat black rock.

With a forceful stroke of the tip of the bone staff across the rock surface, a long white mark was drawn, representing the human race's defensive line.

There's a saying among humans: "To break through the surface, start with a single point."

He bent down, picked up a few pieces of white bone fragments from the ground, and casually tossed them behind the white line.

"The human race's war situation has now expanded considerably, with defensive lines stretching for thousands of miles, inevitably leading to a dispersal of their forces."

"We can concentrate our superior forces and penetrate like an awl, defeating them one by one!"

The messenger became more and more excited as he spoke, tapping his bone staff repeatedly on the rock.

He picked up a few fist-sized black stones and slammed them heavily in front of the white line.

"On the front lines, we must use heavy blows!"

"The Fallen Knights, combined with the Blood Raptor's unreasonable and savage charge, can definitely tear a hole in the human defenses."

The will-o'-the-wisps flickered in the messenger's eyes, as if he could already see the human warriors howling in agony under the iron hooves.

"These two alone aren't enough. Bring up the Ironclad Bull and the Bloodthirsty Demon Bear too!"

"Let them be at the forefront, absorbing the human firepower. These four races working together in the front lines will be enough to wipe out most of the human main force!"

With a swing of the bone staff, several black stones were violently pushed forward, smashing the white bones representing humanity to pieces.

Then the messenger grabbed a handful of fine black sand and sprinkled it on both sides and behind the rocks.

"We've contained them head-on; the rest is up to assassination and traps."

He lowered his voice, his tone sinister.

"The Yellow Sand Ratmen are responsible for digging tunnels underground to attack their rear and destroy their teleportation nodes."

"The Bloodweb Spiders and the Phantom Moon Mirage Clan laid an ambush beforehand, setting up an inescapable trap."

"These races will utilize their racial advantages, create traps, and launch surprise attacks amidst the chaos, absolutely catching the human race off guard!"

The envoy looked with satisfaction at the "sand table" he had set up on the rock, then raised his head and looked up at the gray sky above.

"Having ground control alone is not enough; we must also control the air."

The bone staff drew several circles in mid-air.

"The aerial dive assassination of the Thornfeather Clan is quite powerful, coupled with the Soul Sound Interference of the Ghost Owl and the wide-range lightning bombardment of the Thunder Bat."

"These three winged races utilize their high mobility as mobile reinforcements, ready to support any battlefield that is losing ground."

This combination of punches is all-encompassing, covering everything from the front and sides, leaving no blind spots!

The messenger went through the entire battlefield scenario and the more he thought about it, the more flawless it seemed.

He was just about to put away his bone staff when his gaze swept over a lone black stone slab in the corner of the rock, and his brows suddenly furrowed.

"And that damned Shadowfiend..."

The messenger snorted and kicked the black stone piece away.

"These useless people, I couldn't even contact them after the last assassination mission failed."

"No respect for elders."

After uttering a complaint, the messenger regained his composure.

He gripped the bone staff with both hands, raised it high above his head, looked up at the abyss-like sky, and let out a hoarse and wild laugh.

"As expected of me, the great messenger!"

"A bridge connecting the Demon Lord to all races! The culmination of the wisdom of the abyss!"

He was beaming with delight, as if he had already grasped the fruits of victory in his hands.

"Once this tactic is implemented, what use will it be for humanity to possess those bizarre teleportation methods that allow for instantaneous movement?"

"Once the war breaks out, the flames of war will ignite every corner. You may be able to run away quickly, but are you going to abandon the battlefield defenses you worked so hard to build?"

"If you don't want it, then the battlefield of the heavens will still be ours!"

The messenger put down his bone staff, straightened his wide black robe, and his steps became lighter.

He was completely immersed in the beautiful fantasy he had created.

In his mind's vision, the armies of all races, under his command, surged like a black tide, crushing the human resistance with overwhelming force.

The human warriors were routed, losing their armor and weapons, and retreated in disarray, finally fleeing back to the teleportation array like stray dogs.

"Perhaps, before the Demon King fully awakens and descends, I will have already led all races to drive those lowly humans back to their pitiful homeland."

The messenger stroked his withered chin, the will-o'-the-wisps in his eyes gleaming with greed.

"Perhaps, when the Demon King of Xilin arrives and sees that I have driven the human race back, he will be so pleased that he will also grant me jurisdiction over the A-level region?"

The more I think about it, the brighter the future seems.

The messenger's speed suddenly increased, turning into a blur.

Half a day later.

The messenger arrived at the agreed meeting point.

This is the boundary between the Class A area and the Abyss area.

The chilling, malevolent energy here converges into a fierce wind, howling and crashing against the cliff face, producing a mournful sound like the wailing of ten thousand ghosts.

This place is spacious and solemn enough to be the perfect setting for writing the script of humanity's defeat.

The messenger tapped his toes several times on the cliff face, his figure rising high, and landed steadily on the highest protruding rock of Broken Soul Cliff.

He planted his bone staff heavily into a crevice in the rock beside him, put his hands behind his back, and faced the fierce wind, striking a pose that was both superior and majestic.

He is waiting.

When the kings of various tribes, with their elite troops, gathered at the bottom of this cliff like black clouds, they would prostrate themselves at their feet, awaiting their orders.

An hour has passed.

The bottom of the cliff was empty, with only a few gusts of wind stirring up the black sand and gravel on the ground.

The will-o'-the-wisp in the messenger's eye sockets flickered slightly.

"The territories of different tribes are at varying distances from here, so it's understandable that the army is moving slowly as it gathers."

He reassured himself and continued to keep his hands behind his back.

Three hours have passed.

The bottom of the cliff remained deserted. Not a single soldier was to be seen, not even a wild mouse.

The messenger's back was somewhat stiff.

He lowered his hands, rubbed his sore shoulders, shifted his weight to his left leg.

"These idiots! They're always the first to run when it comes to taking over territory, but when it comes to the Demon King's summons, they dare to dawdle like this!"

Half a day has passed.

The sun disappeared into the gray-black fog, and the battlefield of the heavens was plunged into an even deeper night.

At the bottom of Broken Soul Cliff, there was a deathly silence.

The envoy could no longer stand firm.

He pulled out his bone staff and paced back and forth on the rocks. His black robe dragged on the ground, making an annoyed rustling sound.

"What happened?"

He stopped, and the veins on the back of his hand, which was gripping the bone cane, bulged out.

The long night passed in the messenger's anxiety and anger.

The day slipped away quietly.

When the faint light of the second day struggled to penetrate the malevolent aura and shone upon the Cliff of Broken Souls.

The gray fog in the distance finally began to stir.

The messenger abruptly stopped, his empty eye sockets fixed on the direction of the churning gray mist.

"They're here!"

He quickly reinserted the bone staff into the crevice, straightened his slightly disheveled black robe, put his hands behind his back, raised his chin, and maintained his aloof and dignified posture.

He cleared his hoarse throat, preparing to give the kings of each race a soul-shaking intimidation the moment they appeared.

The gray fog was slowly parted.

Several figures cautiously and slowly emerged from the mist.

The envoy's prepared, dignified opening remarks were abruptly stuck in his throat, and his gaunt cheek muscles began to twitch uncontrollably.

Within sight.

There were no sky-covering, bony wing formations, no torrents of iron hooves crushing the earth.

There were no imposing armies of various ethnic groups.

Only two or three kittens emerged from the gray fog.

Bone-eating beetles, swift-falcons, burrowing frogs...

They are all races with unique survival skills.

Meanwhile, the main fighting forces include the Blood-Splitting Rhinoceros, the Thorn Feather Clan, the Illusionary Moon Mirage, and the Fallen Knights...

Not a single one showed up!

Clang.

The bone staff the messenger held slipped from his hand and smashed against the rock.

He didn't bother to pick it up; he suddenly hugged his withered bald head with both hands, the ghostly fire in his eyes flickering violently, almost going out.

"Where are all my men?!"